Light
by Yllen
Summary: Severus is in Azkaban. There are people who want him free, there are people who don't. Listen to their inner monologues. Complete
1. Light

            **A/N I am sorry for mistakes in spelling and grammar. I am not Native Speaker. And I am still learning English… Be merciful, it's my first fanfiction. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, except my sick imagination. Everything else belongs to those, who own, like Mrs Rowling, who owns Severus, even though it's not fair, she doesn't treat him with necessary dose of respect.**

**Rating: I think PG, there are no adult situations, (sees everyone leaving the story unread) and just a little bit of swearing. But if it's about darkness and bitterness it would be higher.**

**Summary: Severus Snape tells you his story. It's a bit twisted and strange. Very sad, at least for me. I was writing it mostly between 12 PM and 1 AM. It's visible. I am sorry if Severus is OOC,  but remember, even without dementors Azkaban is depressing.**

Welcome. My name is Severus Snape, and I am Potions Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Ex-Death Eater, Member of the Order of the Phoenix, Spy for the Light, if want to send a letter, current address would be Azkaban. 

And you are readers of Harry Potter books, mostly girls, now sitting in your comfortable chairs and ruining your sight reading _this._ But everyone has a story to tell, and I am not an exception. As it may be my last moment to do so, I decide I will tell it to you. I don't ask you to be fair to me, to think of me with sympathy or to pity me. I have never been too much of a fair-play person. The end justifies the means etc. Machiavelli. The lying one is the easiest to be kicked. I merely want you to read it. And than do whatever you want. Retching isn't forbidden. Now on with the story. 

So.

That's how it all finishes.

It's dark and cold here. I am sitting on the floor in the corner of my cell. Waiting for the trial to begin.

I have a lot of time. Maybe too much.

It makes me think. And I would prefer not to. There is nothing pleasant to think of. 

Do you want to know why I am here? What my crimes are? Who I am?

So I'll begin with the last question. My name is Severus Snape. And I am here because of the Dark Mark. Yes, I was a Death Eater. I suppose that it makes things clear. The funny thing, though, is that I was not a loyal Death Eater. I was a spy for the Order of Phoenix. And still, I am being charged. Well, I guess it means they never trusted me. Just as I thought.

And it also means Dumbledore is dead. Yes, they didn't even tell me who survived and who didn't… Well, he often told, he is not to see the new world. After we win. And he always believed we would win. If he would be alive, I wouldn't be here. He alone always trusted me. And that's probably why I turned to the Good Guys. I felt too awful, letting him down.

I suppose I am going to die. Now wizards don't have dementors to guard their prison, and of course they remember what happened when they left _Very Dangerous Enemies_ alive. Bella Lestrange showed what one mad and craving for vengeance woman can do… So they don't leave _ Very Dangerous Enemies _alive.

Dumbledore is dead, so there is nobody to claim I was on their side. You say there are all the others from the Order? Well, maybe there are, but it does not mean they will help _me_. Severus Snape, the one that is to take the risk, to go to the Dark Lord… No. Voldemort. Now I can say the Name. So, go to the Voldemort, face him, be able to lie to him and try to get as many pieces of information as possible and than come back, hand it to them and not receive stupid single "Thank you". I am to do the worst part of it and than be left alone. Just as I am. They won't move a finger to help me. It's more comfortable to believe I was the traitor of the Order. Because than they don't have to think that the Bad One, Me, did all this from clear _altruism_. Because saw what is right and what is wrong. It would be too much for their stupid little brains. That a Slytherin can fight for the good side. That one can change. Shit! I am beginning to pity my own not worthy self. 

If I am going to die, and it is very probable, because who is to say I am not guilty, I want to tell my story. My story, why I was what and who I was. So let the story begin…

I was born in a poor but "noble and old" family. My father was a frustrated scientist. My mother tried to keep the old and ugly house in a state that allows to live in it. And to raise me, The Heir of Snapes. And I was taught many courses, jinxes, and so on. Even the Unforgivables, during my holidays. And at school I had no friends. I divided people into three groups – those, who are more powerful and can give me something, those who are more or as powerful as I am and are my enemies, and those, who are less strong. And of course I kept with the firsts, fought with the seconds and tried to keep as far as possible from the thirds. I never found it amusing to torment them. I preferred to fight with equals. Funny, isn't it?

The fight between me and Marauders began in the day we saw each other. It was Sirius Black and James Potter who began to call me names and this kind of stuff. But I was first to use a curse at them. And it made a war. Funny, they often accused me of tormenting weaker ones. And didn't realise, that when there were four of them, though Lupin used not to do much, and Peter was only capable of cursing already petrified, and I was alone, they were tormenting the weaker one. But I could stand it. What I couldn't was humiliation.

I was always ashamed of my poor family, of my old things, of my appearance. It was stupid, but I was a teenager. And they knew it and as often as they could used it against me. And the day of our DADA OWL, they crossed the line. They humiliated me in front of half the school and nobody except a Mudblood girl found it unfair. I never did something like that. I never tormented them just because I was bored and wanted to find a way to get the stress out of my system. The stupid and conceited Potter… Of course I hated him! What did I do to deserve it? I was not a Death Eater than. And it helped me to make my decision. I decided that I will be so powerful, that no one will ever humiliate me like he did. And I found the one, that offered me power to make it come true, and gave me what I desired – knowledge. It was Voldemort. Saint Potter together with Saint Black pushed me to Voldemort. Fate's grinning evilly every time she (or he or whatever) looks at me, I suppose.

Oh, I haven't mentioned the Werewolf incident. When I was in the fifth year they also told me how to get to Lupin while he was a werewolf. A good joke indeed. I could have died. I would have died. In the last moment Potter came and _saved _me. I still wonder if they planned it like that. Anyway, I am sure that he _saved_ me to save their own hides, not mine. And I don't feel thankful.

After I graduated I received the Dark Mark and soon became one of the most honoured Death Eaters. The inner circle, and this kind of stuff. As I was his best Potions Master I didn't have to take part in raids. But once I was honoured to torture and kill one of his victims. And I understood that I am doing exactly what was done to me. I am humiliating and tormenting. And I understood that I am sitting in a swamp with my ears covered, to express it adequately. I couldn't see any way out.

It took me three more months to decide I have to go to Dumbledore. That time I loathed myself so much, that it was indifferent to me if he will hand me to Dementors or not. I just wanted my schizophrenia to finish, no matter how.

And what did he do?

He gave me a _quest_ like Sir Cadogan would say. He found me worthy to work for Good Guys and try to find peace. With world and my conscience. And so I became a spy. For the Light, to be pathetic. Me, Severus Snape. Amusing.

When the Potters gave birth to child I knew that Dark… that Voldemort wants it to be killed. I didn't know why, but Dumbledore said he knew, so I didn't try to find out. I was sure there is a traitor between close friends of Potters. And they thought it was Lupin… Again amusing. I wouldn't ever think of him. Well, he was a werewolf, but he was also very _noble_. And _loved _Potters. But what I thought was of no value. And so the Potters died. Nothing to be sorry about. And the little heir of them defeated Voldemort. Well, not completely – I knew that he is still _somewhere_. Not alive. But not dead either. So I wasn't allowed to live a normal life yet. I was still supposed to be a spy. Waiting for _him_ to return. 

And so he did. He tried several times after young Potter had arrived at school. Of course I disliked him since very first moment – he looked exactly like Potter The Elder and was just as arrogant and vain. Well, but I had this stupid Debt. Because Saint Potter saved my poor excuse for life. And, anyway, I am not a monster, I don't find pleasure in watching children killed. So I protected the Boy-Who-Lived. I was furious when someone tried to kill him during a quidditch match and  to protect him. And I was furious when Granger set my robes on fire. Well, she thought that I was trying to hex The Boy Who Lived. As if I had nothing better to do… Amusing.

Later there were all these attacks during second year. I knew that there is only one explanation – Voldemort found a new way to enter the school. And probably is possessing one of the students… or Lockhart. But Lockhart was too stupid, Lord wouldn't touch him with a six feet long stick… Well, I guess he wouldn't even hex him. But I had not this kind of pride and had a lot of fun during Duelling Club. But still it was better to have him along then to endure Lupin The Big Good Wolf. 

I was very angry when I heard Dumbledore offered him DADA Professor position. I hoped I will never have to see him again… But no. I had to live under the same roof with him for all year and to treat him with _respect _as my _colleague._ Well, I know that he never participated in these stupid pranks or hexed me, or something like that. But still he was _their _friend. And that was not all. Sirius Black was on a run. Indeed a happy time.

As I said I was sure that it's not Lupin that passed information to Voldemort. But I must admit that Black was even more impossible for me. But still everything led to him. Well, I was feeling worse and worse as the year was going. My only pleasure was that Lupin was dependent on me – he had to take the Wolfsbane Potion, that only few Potions Master can prepare. Including me. And I know it tastes awfully and it was my bit of pleasure… Just as tormenting Longbottom. I know I am cruel and sadistic bastard, but still I couldn't stand his reaction to me. Well, sometimes it was even funny, to effect fear, but still the boggart as me was a bit too much… I was only glad Lupin saw it. I hoped he will think twice before he says a word about _Old Good Times_…

And than… When I discovered Black… When I saw him all the hatred came back. I was lucky that I didn't lose control and didn't curse him… Shit, and I was wrong! I was sure he was going to kill that poor excuse for wizard The Boy Who Lived And So What… But no. He was innocent. Well, I suppose it's not an appropriate word when we talk about Black… But back to the subject. He escaped with Potter's help. Albus helped them… Later we had a long talk. He explained everything to me and for the first time I told him The Truth about his pet Marauders. 

Well, it was the first time I managed to shock him, I suppose, and still he was sure I was exaggerating. But he didn't convince me that Young Potter is better then Saint James Potter. I managed to keep my hatred towards the boy inside and nearly not shown. And the next term was indeed difficult…The Dark Mark started to return. And so I started to get ready for what I knew was waiting for me – my spy activities were to be started again. 

I was deeply shocked when I saw Barty. And his testimony… Damn it, I really would prefer not to be born sometimes… And than Cornelius Yes I Really Am That Stupid Fudge brought dementor and we lost the only chance to convince the world that Voldemort returned. 

I still can't understand how did I manage to convince Voldemort about my loyalties. Maybe I would be equally stupid, if I would be in third part a Potter, in third a very stupid Muggle and in third a Pettigrew… Anyway, he believed me. So the _Great Game _began. 

What else did I have to endure? Except for the Lupin and Black, together again? Black had even cheek to call me _Snivellus _again. Well, I suppose it was a bit too much. Lupin played the Arbiter. And why did it all begin? Of course because of Potter. Every time I am humiliated or something like that, there must be a Potter involved. Maybe I was cursed a special potterus curse while I was a baby? Sorry, I am beginning to be too sarcastic. It's supposed to be serious. So let's go back to Sirius. He was probably afraid that during this occlumency lessons I will harass his precious godson, because of what they did to me. Coming from his small brain I must admit it was a brilliant discovery. Or maybe this was written on my face. Well, if he intended to help Potter he didn't choose the right way. Well, he could have simply asked. Or even say something about "Harry not being responsible for _that_". Well, it wouldn't do much, but still it wouldn't do any hurt_._ Instead he tried to _threaten_ me. 

I shall not abuse cursive. I was always proud I can _say _ cursive, but now I indeed use it too often… 

So he did the worst thing he could – reminded me about everything and revived anger. But still I was as patient as I could. Even though the stupid boy wasn't doing any better with the passing time. But than something happened I didn't expect – when I left him alone with the pensieve he dared to intrude my most private memories. These that I wanted to protect from him. Damn it, damn it, damn it! Am I always to be humiliated by Potters? Pray, what did I do to deserve it? Sorry, wrong question. I do deserve everything that happens to me. But it doesn't mean I have to greet it with widely-opened arms. 

I felt like killing the boy that very second I saw him looking inside pensieve. But I knew it was not a solution. Not to be considered. I have enough innocent blood on my hands. Well, if Potter's blood is to be called innocent… Anyway, I came inside the memory. Luck he arrived only this far… Oh, maybe you are wondering if he indeed took of my pants? Well, he did. It was the very moment I first felt like killing so strongly, that if I hadn't been petrified I wouldn't have been able to resist. Preferably it would have been done with my bare hands. Happy?

And than the  worst happened – Voldemort managed to convince Potter that he had got Black. So the Hero went to Department of Mysteries in the Ministry. Straight into his hands. Shit, I was so afraid that the last chance is lost. When Potter and Granger didn't come back from the forest, I tried to organise some help, and luckily, Potter stayed alive. Instead this idiot Black died. And here comes the best part – Potter began to blame me for this. I saw it in his eyes. I was amused. How the young mind can work… With this one thought, he was cleaning his father's memory, his godfather's one too, his own conscience about both going to department and peeking in my memories. But at least the school year was over.

I was sure that in the next year I will not have to endure presence of Amazing Trio on my lessons. I was wrong. Only Weasley dropped Potions. Well, Granger at least had enough points on her OWL's, but Potter was given special permission by Headmaster. And Voldemort was growing more and more angry with lack of information. I had to give him a bit of lies, and than I was given a special task – I was to poison Potter. Not to death, he willed to be the one to have a pleasure of killing him, he just wanted him weakened. Headmaster agreed we have to inform the boy, to make him act accordingly. It was a funny confrontation – boy didn't know how to tell he didn't trust me. We were to give him a potion that would make him weak for a short period, but finally would make him stronger – he didn't want to drink anything I made. Headmaster tried to be patient. But at long last even he got irritated and said, that if he didn't trust me, he didn't trust him. Than the boy obeyed. Well, there were other interesting things that year too – young Malfoy tried to kill Potter. I had to give him a big tongue-lashing, about being loyal to the Lord, who wants Potter only for him. But I could understand the boy – his father was in Azkaban, his mother left for France… He had nobody, and blamed Potter. And during the last Hogsmead weekend Voldemort attacked the village. Many students and teachers died. An the problem was, that there must have been a traitor, who told Voldemort how to get to through the wards. And than the term finished. 

I wasn't summoned during the summer, I was told only to make some research on potions that have effect similar to the one that contain philosopher's stone. And so I did. It didn't even took me too long, only a month. The second I spent trying to find a way, to make the potion malfunction, but in the way, that Voldemort won't recognise. And I managed. 

The seventh year started, and both sides worked hard. It was certain, that the Final Battle was to be soon… At school we taught children how to defend their selves, how to fight, how to hide. We tried to prepare them. As if it was possible, to be prepared for Voldemort. 

I don't want to go into details. Everything that you need to know, you know. The battle came and The Light won. I don't know who died and who is alive. They didn't even tell me _that_. I am only sure that Voldemort died and Potter is still alive. I also know that Malfoys died. Oh yes, I forgot to tell that Lucius had been set free by Voldemort. The funny thing is that he changed sides when he saw his son killed by one of Death Eaters for disobedience. Didn't even think about it, I suppose – just turned and killed that one, and than started his Danse Macabre. He was like an angel of death – when he fell, killed by Pettigrew many of us couldn't believe our eyes. He alone changed the turn of events, gave us time to regain forces. He was the closest thing to a friend I ever had, except for Albus. But he is a completely different story.

So now I am sitting here and pondering about what happened. I know it's unjust, what they do to me, because I am going to be sentenced for what I hadn't done, not for my sins. But as I deserve death sentence from different reasons, we can say that in general Justice will triumph. 

I am sitting here. It's dark and cold. And I am alone. If we consider everything, it's not so different from my normal days, when I finish teaching and stay alone. In my dungeons. 

I really don't care if I will be sentenced. I only want to know who died in the battle. I have the right to know. 

Maybe when you die, you find peace?

If you do, I want to die.

I hear footsteps. They are growing louder.

The doors crack open. The light blinds me.

I hear a familiar voice. It's Perceval Weasley. His pompous voice says:

'Mister Severus Snape, you have to go now. You will be judged by The Highest Instance today'

'What am I accused of?'

'I am not to tell this to you'

'What did I do to be refused the most basic answers?'

'I am not to tell you.' 

I swallow the answer I was going to give and stand up. I manage to take only one step before I fall. That's all about my pride… Weasley commands his companion to help me stand. I am trembling. He makes his decision and they half draw, half carry me from my cell. There is even more light in the corridor.

Too much light.

Maybe it's just a nightmare? And I will wake up in hospital wing, to see Albus's face, and he will tell me everything is over? And… maybe I will even smile. Just once.


	2. That's all about prejudices

A/N This is the second chapter of my first serious story. First was written from Severus's perspective. This is not. I know the beginning you may find boring. It may be boring, but is truthful. Because that's all about prejudices. I am prejudiced like seven hells. I know that's wrong. I am working to change it and I am changing. I hope it will help You. Sorry for this Moralisations. 

**Disclaimer I own nothing. I don't earn. I wish to thank Miss Rowling, that shows us that it's all about prejudices. She is right.**

Thanks to the one person that reviewed the first chapter. If you are reading this, I want to say that I needed someone to tell me that what I did was of some value. You made my day. Thanks! 

**Apologies for any spell or grammar mistakes. I am Polish and my English isn't perfect, to understate this. I am sorry, I know that it's a very impolite to write with spelling mistakes. I beg forgiveness, I do respect English language (How could I not? Shakespeare, J. Donne, J. R. R. Tolkien, C. S. Lewis, R. Dahl, T. Pratchett, O. S. Card and now J. K. Rowling!)**

That's all about prejudices 

That's how it all finishes. 

Stupid we are, aren't we? Every time we make the same mistake – no, not mistake. Not even sin. Crime. 

I mean, look at the Muggle world – there was this business with second world war. A man – a propos a dark-haired, not tall one – said that Human is a person that has blue eyes, blond hair, is tall etc. You know… Aryan. By the way, Japan was with him – it always amuses me. I know it was not about ideology, but still how did he explain allying with little yellow men? Maybe they were a different kind of Aryans? Forget it. Just my musings. Voldemort has Muggle father. And made the ideology about poor blood.

There were so many victims. Polish, Russians, Germen and, of course, Jews – because they were different. If you are different you tell me my way of being is not the only one possible. And as we are human beings, we compare everything we can. And we want our way is the good one. And if our is good – their must be bad. So come, take a stone and throw it in our dark-haired, big-nosed neighbour's window. So take your gun and kill him. So rape his wife and daughter and make his son watch it.

God took his gift, stupid fruits and corn, and didn't want mine? Is my younger brother Abel better then I? When I have a stone in my hand, and Power and Will to Kill in my heart he is no better! He was weaker! He lost and I won! I won! 

You understand what I mean?

And if you are up-to-date with Muggle problems, than you know, that they haven't finished their IIWW problems yet. There are neo-nazis. There are Jews, that lived in America during the war and did nothing to help their dying relatives here. Maybe they couldn't, I am not to judge. But neither they are - but they do. For example they accuse Poland. That is stupid, because Poland not only suffered because of war, to be exact was first to be attacked, it was also than given to Stalin as a gift. For his help to conquer one he outdid when we ask about number of victims. There were heroes and traitors among Polish. Just as everywhere. 

I am becoming philosophic. Sorry. I will get to the point than.

We are no better than Muggles.

We, Wizards, so proud of our pedigree – by the way, do you know it's a name for a dog food in Poland? Anyway, so proud. Better ones. As we are cream of creams etc, we are allowed to treat house elves, goblins, centaurs, Muggles, Muggleborns, werewolves, vampires or giants as worse. We are allowed to abuse them.

Sirius was my best friend. It's two years now since he died. I loved him – he was my friend after all. There was time I believed he was a traitor, and than I got to know it was Peter. 

And so Sirius, such a great friend, and dead man now, and we shouldn't speak bad of dead ones. Or maybe we should? A long time ago I read a book by Muggle writer Orson Scott Card about it. I can't remember the title now, but it was about a man that spoke about dead people – told the truth. It was one of the books that really moved me. Anyway, I love Sirius, but now I am not blind. I know that he wasn't saint. He was prejudiced like seven hells. Slytherins are bad. House elves aren't something to care about. I know what he and James did to Snape. I sometimes wonder if it made him become a Death Eater? It was disgusting. But what was even more disgusting was how they treated Peter. He was weaker, but he could become a strong one. But instead of giving him a bit of respect he deserved as a human being not to mention friend, they laughed at him, humiliated him, treated like shit sometimes. 

And I was no better. I was worst. Because they were just stupid show-offs, full of energy, impulsive, prejudiced. But I was not blind. As I had been treated badly before, I knew how it felt.

And I did nothing to stop them. These lame efforts I did were not something. 

So is Voldemort really responsible for all the bad of the world?

Me, James and Sirius made Peter a traitor. We made Snape a bitter and cynical man. We killed Harry's mother. We.

We made goblins fight for their rights, and no wonder. We made house elves a kind that snogs master's trousers and want to be beheaded to show loyalty. We! We made that all.

It is our fault there was this war. It is our fault so many of us had to die. And now we shall bear signs of this. You know, I think I can understand Snape's habit of wearing only black. Have you read another Card's book, about Alvin? It's title was about a Prophet or something like that. There was about people that had to tell everyone they met about killing Indian's they committed, or have their hands covered in blood. Well, this motive with blood on ones hands, or head, or whatever. Cain. Lady Macbeth. And finally these people. 

I always associated it with the Dark Mark. I think we all deserve it. Because it's our fault. Not Voldemort's. He was just a product of our centuries-old crime. Of prejudices.

Am I any better? As I am a werewolf I felt how it hurts. But I can't say I am not prejudiced. I am always on-guard when I hear someone is a Slytherin. But being a Slytherin doesn't mean being bad! Means being a Slytherin. Once Godric and Salazar great friends were! Damn it, and than prejudices came!

There was Hitler and there was Stalin. They were neither first nor last ones in Muggle world. 

There was Herverus, there was Frither, Quider, Grindewald, Garoff, Voldemort. Yes, he _was_. But can we be happy?

May he be the last. I pray he is the last. But if we'll consider anyone inferior to us we will be lost. Because next Evil One will come and maybe lose. But than next one, and next, and next. And it will mean we _have_ lost, because we didn't change. I mean we will lose the future. Future full of laughing children and without wands under pillows. And damn this world if we will never be able to live.

I loath myself. I am an old man, though you wouldn't think, looking at my ID. Birth date. I am old and tired. I am tired with myself. I am a monster, because once in a month I turn a bloodthirsty wolf? No. I am a monster, because I am dead and I am still alive. I am dead. When you have no hope, no aim, no love you are dead. You may speak or walk, you may have sex or kill. But you are dead. An empty, soulless corpse. 

I am exaggerating, I know. There are people that care for me. There are people I love, Weasleys, for example. Even Pompous Percy, who made this life-mistake and betrayed his family, saw his way back and now is the most devoted son I have ever seen. It's important to Arthur, especially now, when Ginny is dead. He, Molly, Percy Charlie and the Twins are still alive… Ron and Bill and Ginny are dead. 

So why am I drowning myself with these thoughts? 

Because today is an important one. Care to hear why?

Today Severus Snape, the worst enemy of Marauders – by the way, funny I am the only one left – is charged.

He is accused of being the traitor of the Order of the Phoenix. 

I think we all know he wasn't the traitor. He fought like seven hells. He risked his neck more than once. We just hate the thought of this greasy git walking on Our Earth. 

And on to the point – we hate him not because he was a Death Eater. There are some Death Eaters that changed and were forgiven.

Some time ago we hated him, because he was different. We hate him now, because we know that we hurt him, we broke him, we! It is our fault his life is shit! His fault, too. But also ours! So we want to kill him, because he reminds us of it with every unpleasant smirk he makes. I feel sick when I think how responsible I am for everything that happened to him, for what he became, for what he did. 

And now we want to convince ourselves that he deserved what he got. Serves him right, we want to tell. We want to be justified. 

Damn me, if I allow it this time.

He must live. If not for himself – as I doubt he has much will to live – then for the sake of our bad, full of nightmares sleep, or maybe sleepless nights. For sake of our responsibility. We must be reminded that it was – _is_ – our fault. We mustn't allow the feeling of reassurance overwhelm us. It is our fault that he became what he became. Even Albus wasn't saint. He also held prejudices against Slytherins.

I don't say everything will change in an instance. We need dozens of years to heal what was hurt. We need to change, and that's difficult.

We need to start now. And it will be a right start with Severus Snape. We owe him a great debt. I owe him a great debt. He was the one to make me understand what's wrong. 

May I be damned if I let him be killed for our comfort. May I be damned.

My note again – I do think Orson Scott Card's books made me a better person. I do advise them to everyone. They are about responsibility and what being a human means. I owe him a lot. The books I refer to are from Ender and Alvin series – both second tomes, but I am not sure about correct English titles. Sorry. 


	3. Hatred is the power we must consider

That's how it all finishes.

I have never thought it will be like that. I hoped Voldemort will be defeated, of course. I believed he will be with all my might. But later it came, less hopeful I was. The real war hasn't even started, and already Cedric was gone. Than Sirius. Than, during the sixth year there was this attack on Hogsmead and Ron and many others died. I was losing my aim. I couldn't see it. Why all people I cared for, all I loved had to leave me? I know it may sound egoistic. It probably is. But I don't want to be altruistic any more. I fulfilled what I was expected to do. I helped to save the world. And now what?

I am not really alone. There is Hermione. She deeply cares for me. She is my best friend. We love each other in a way. She was the reason for me to invest my energy in this war. Well, not only she. I just mean that I don't care about the world. I care for people I love. 

But now I just feel tired. It's bad with me. I just don't want to do anything. I must chew what I have bitten. I am sure help from friends would help me. But not now. I just can't open. Not yet.

I have a problem. A serious one. 

I am on a corridor in Azkaban, waiting for other people that will be present on the hearing. Or however we call it. This comedy of justice. I am very likely to wait for much longer, I came here earlier than it was necessary. 

You know, I did hate him. Not just for tormenting me and my friends. Not for his responsibility in Sirius' death – now I see it clearly.

I hated  him– well, honestly I still do - because my father and my godfather hurt him.

It may sound stupid, but think of it. His presence was reminding me about the fact they were not angels. Not in a bit. They were teenagers, and not the most pleasant ones. 

I hate to admit it. I hated him for being a victim. I would be able to forgive him, had he hurt my father. I really would. I couldn't forgive him the fact that it was my father who needed forgiveness.

Do you see the irony? Once I couldn't understand Dumbledore's statement that Snape hated my father for saving his life – and this situation was _very_ similar. Is, indeed. I still am not sure what to think of it all. That's why I am here.

I wasn't even asked to come. I am The-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Conquer-Voldemort (it would sound even funnier, if we change Voldemort into You-Know-Who, or, even better, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named) I can do what I want now. Some of them are afraid of me – other understand I have too much to cope with now.

Anyway, I am here. 

I just had to. I would never forgive myself if I cowered. At least I hope I wouldn't.

Hatred is the problem. Do you know that to cast Cruciatus you need to feel hatred toward the person you wish to torture? But not just hatred because the person did something, you must hate this person with all your heart and will, not for the sake of vengeance, just for the sake of hatred. Inflicting pain must be what you want. That's why I couldn't cast it properly on Bellatrix Lestrange – it was Sirius I was thinking of, not her. You can cast the killing curse, or imperio, or crucio. It may even work. But to give it full force you must be Evil. That's why they are unforgivable.

But am I really a good person? Am I? When I was fighting with Voldemort he tried to penetrate my mind. I don't know what he saw. But I have my suspicions. Because he _smiled_. These thin, white lips curled into a satisfied smile. 

And than he said:

'I won. You can conquer this body or soul, but my sake… It's already in you.'

And than I killed him. I didn't use the killing curse. Maybe I could, but I knew it would allow him his 'come back'.

Because it would mean using the force of hatred. That's not the right way to save the world.

Instead I used love I had. I wanted him dead for my friends to live. Not for the sake of punishment for my parents death or something like that. For sake of these, who live. Dead people are not a reason for killing.

I don't know if it was a spell, a curse, whatever. I didn't say a word. I just _wanted. _

And it was finished.

It's three weeks since it finished. And now it's the right time to confront my problem.

Do I want to allow Voldemort to win? Or am I determined to fight against the evil that is hidden in my own soul?

Sometimes I comforted myself with thought that I did my share. Fulfilled my part. Won with the devil and as the one who did it I cannot be bad.

But that is just a wish and dream. 

So later I started to think my life through. To find what Voldemort saw to make him so _happy_. 

I never hated the Dursleys. I don't want them dead, I don't want them suffer. All I want is to stay away from them.

I was seeking for the hatred that I knew that was inside. Well, honestly I knew in an instant what Voldemort meant, but I tried to find something else.

I couldn't.

_Snape_.

That's strange. I know why I hate him. I know why it's not fair. I know that I misjudge him. I know and understand.

And still, although it's so unreasonable, I do.

So that's why I am here now. To fight my Final Battle. With myself. Because I know he didn't do what he is being accused of. Because I know that if he will be found guilty I will feel _pleasure_. Damned, evil pleasure.

And I know that if I feel this pleasure once I am lost.

If I will find enough power, I will kill myself before I manage to become a monster. If I don't – I will become a new, much worse Dark Lord. You think I am exaggerating?

That's because you haven't seen that smile.

I don't want to have this dilemma – to kill myself or half of this world. So I must defeat myself now. 

Am I pathetic? Perhaps I am. I do hate pathetic side of my life. The Boy Who Lived. Poor orphan. Destined to save the world. Damn it. And now the last part of my story. I would call it Harry Potter and His Hatred Toward Greasy Git. But I am sure that it wouldn't sound pathetic enough. What about Harry Potter and the Shadow of Darkness in His Soul? 

I am laughing now, you know. My laugh is just that full of amusement, as Voldemort's. I would do a great new Evil One.

But I don't want. I am not destined to anything anymore. I will take my life in my own hands. And I will win. Damn it. I will. 

Some people arrive. Only fifteen minutes till the beginning. I made my decision. I will face my hatred and I will kill it. 

I see Remus Lupin. His situation is in many ways worse than mine. All his friends are gone. I have Hermione, Luna, Zachary. He now lives with Weasleys. At least they care for him.

I wave my hand and he nearly smiles. I nearly smile, too.

'Ready for the parody?' I ask.

'I am. Why are you here? You weren't asked, were you?'

'No, but who denies The Boy Who Lived whatever he wants?'

'Nobody'  he answers 'But it's not the answer for my question.'

'I don't want to elaborate' I say. 'Not now.'

'Sure'

And together we enter the courtroom.


	4. Author's Note, but please read

Forgotten Author's Note

I am sorry, I haven't given the disclaimer in the last chapter, so I do now - I don't own. I don't earn. I only write.

And my thanks to all who reviewed :

Gagou - thank you for your words, it was Your review that made me continue!

Lilith - You stroke my ego (so superego and id demand to be stroked too) About Your questions - you'll see...

HPForever - thanks. Deep... I feel such a good person now...

Amananduniel Black - thank you. Another part Polish! Maybe you are even my cousin? ;)

FlyingAngel21 - I don't think I will give Hermione this chance, because I don't know what she would say... But thanks.

Kookiez - everyone who doesn't feel for Snape is a bad, bad person - e.g. my own sister. I am proud I changed your point of view.

Ainsley Sloane - Another Polish! Polish all over the world!!! And thanks.

Sun Kitten - thank you... you really read it carefully...

Rabbit of Iron - You think so? Thanks!

Liana - thank you. I really loved these books, so I hope You'll like them too!

What is Rnrnrn?


	5. The time is always right for justice

Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't earn. Only writes in Mrs Rowling's world, because I don't have my own created (yetJ)  

So the war – at least the main part – is finished. Now we only have to clean all this mess.

It was very difficult time for all of us. We lived in incredible stress. We were waiting, with eyes and ears open, we slept lightly, prepared to be woken up by the smallest noise, with our wands under our pillows. We taught our children how to fight. What once was considered nobility – now was called weakness. We had to kill or to be killed. 

We had to forget what was once our Decalogue. 

We had to change our lifestyle in a way that was cruel. We had to become ruthless to live.

And we lived. We killed, and burned, and destroyed our enemies.

Yes… So where is a difference? We killed them. They wanted to kill us. But we were… what? Faster? More determined? We did exactly what they wanted to do.

I know the difference. It's that we wanted them dead not because we wanted them dead. The deed wasn't for it's own sake. 

We wanted our children to live and die in peace. With dignity. We didn't want them to bow and kiss the hem of his robes. We wanted them to get what was not given to us – chance to be safe, not to fear morning owl arriving, because they may bring short note from the ministry, telling that they are sorry, but they have no longer parents, not to search the sky for ominous symbol in the air.

And we reached our aim. Now we must again change, and this will be difficult. We must once again begin to live. We must _learn _to sleep peacefully. We must bury these, who didn't live to see the end of the war and we must mourn those, who died, not only in the end, but also those who died through all this war, because before we didn't have time or occasion to do this. All our will we directed in the fight. We had to sharpen our weapon on their tombs, change our pain into strength. We had to yell instead of crying.

Now it's finished. We are free to show our emotions and wear our hearts on our cuffs. There is  no longer Voldemort to attack us, when we show a bit of weakness. 

Are we any longer able to do so? To let our emotions, our feelings take our self-control away? Are we able to put our masks away? Or maybe they are no longer masks. Maybe now they are our faces.

I am a victim of the war, too. I have lost three of my children, but I've many friends. And I am a very proud father. All my children did well. William, Ronald and Virginia… Never lived to be called like that. They will forever remain Bill, Ron and Ginny. That's what is written on their tombs. Three new tombs with 'Weasley' on them. 

Parents shouldn't outlive their children. Shouldn't bury them.

There is a lot of  sadness in us, who remained. But I made up my mind. I will not let these tragedies to rule our life, to deny us living. They wouldn't want it.

And our society is determined, too. We had to learn a tough lesson – we are as strong as we are united. Voldemort tried to 'divide et impera'. We united our forces. We had to forget what we were taught about the meaning of keeping the blood pure. About pedigrees. All these rubbish that Voldemort built his ideology on. 

We had to think in 'we' not 'we and they' category.

And now we came into our test. We are going to prove if we learned our painful lesson. If we are able to look at a man we hated, distrusted and maybe even despised. Who, however risked his neck more than once, and was given, now, an evidence of our ungratefulness. Man we accused of being a traitor, really because we are afraid to look in his eyes. We are afraid we will see there that we were wrong about him. And so we were unjust.

I never trusted Severus Snape. He was a Slytherin, in every inch. He was very intelligent, maybe even brilliant. He was also brave, not in a way 'jump in unknown water', this kind of courage is rather a imperfection. He was brave in a way 'If it must be done, I don't question your decision, I don't ask to be spared, I go and do.' 

But we always questioned and doubted. We weren't sure. We said that men don't change, not that much. We showed him, what we think of him, we were giving him these small hints like not asking him to stay for dinner and this kind of stuff. Negro did, Negro may go.

So today I will have to face him and look in his eyes. What do I expect to see in there? 

I know he did a lot of horrible things, when he was a Death Eater. He killed and tortured. He was however dispensed from them, on Albus' request. Many people request he shall be punished because of his old sins. That's what they say, maybe even think. But what they really fear is that his presence will remind them about times they want to forget. We mustn't _forget_. We shall live but remember, not to let anything like that happen again. 

And it's my decision. Who would have thought. I have never been ambitious. Percy is, Ron was. I appreciated my position, it gave me more time to spend with my family. And I, of all people was offered the position of the Minister. 

One day they came and said 'Arthur, old fellow' and 'We need someone we can trust'. Of course I said I can't, as I know nothing about economy and this kind of stuff. 'You will have specialists to deal with this kind of stuff' they said. 'We need someone that will be just' and 'Who understands, and respects Muggles'. It was week after the Battle, so I am Minister for two weeks now. The diploma is still fresh. And the Muggle argument was what made me change my mind.

We are currently working on a Regulation on Muggle Rights and this is going to at last make them equals, though protected, as nearly defenceless against wizards or witches.

There were real massacres during Voldemort's rise. Thousands of Muggles killed just for fun, or to warn us 'Don't you dare try anything, or something like that, or worse, may happen to your family'.

And it has other advantages – as this. I am the Highest Instance. I always considered myself a just and fair man. Man of honour. And so I try my best to be just in all the cases we have. We have no longer dementors. I wouldn't give anyone to them. 

Most of wizards want me to say 'Guilty' and lock him away. Moody asked me to do this. So did many others. 

I won't do such a thing. He wasn't the traitor. I thought he might be, but we are sure now he wasn't.

You know, Voldemort tried to kill him himself during the battle. He usually didn't kill his servants in such moments. Than he used to kill his enemies. Servants he killed in free time.

I suppose the Daily Prophet will call this 'controversial' or something like that and I will lose a big part of my support. But I am not Fudge and I don't care about support. I care more about justice. And that's the problem. Because is it justice to let him go, with all his crimes? He changed. But still he wasn't punished for that yet. But even more then about justice I care about mercy. Sounds suspiciously like Christian's words? Yes, it does. I always thought it's one of most important things though. More mercy then justice.

I apparate to the gates of the Azkaban – as I am Minister the wards recognise me and I don't have to take the long trip with a boat. A wizard dressed in deep green uniform greets me and nods. I don't remember him, so I just politely nod and wish him good day. I go through the passages I've already got to know.

I go to the judge room to prepare myself. I dress in violet robes of judge. The Wizengamot is no longer existing, there are some judges for the less important cases but in the most important – so these that are connected with war – I must decide alone. Desperate times, desperate measures – like in Rome, when in case of war or something like that for a half of the year… Never mind. 

I look at the clock hanging on the wall. It's dark-brown, beautiful thing. And it's time.

I open the door and for a very short moment I am blinded by the light in the room. If it makes me blink, it must be painful for the prisoners, that are kept in these not-well lit cells – I think for the first time. And decide to change it immediately. 

The prisoner is being half dragged through the doors. It's a tradition that accused arrives as the last person, probably to impress him with the sight of the Wizengamot sitting and waiting for him.

I don't think that I am that impressive.

Anyway when Snape saw me he evidently was surprised. Well, no wonder. He doesn't know about Wizengamot and of course he couldn't have known about me becoming Minister. And that must be a surprise. I was surprised. I still am.

I see Harry sitting there, in one of last rows. He asked me some days ago if he could speak on the trial, and of course I agreed. 

Remus Lupin also requested to speak. I allowed it, too.

I stand up and begin 'Mr Severus Snape, you are accused of the betraying the Order of the Phoenix to Voldemort, enemy of the wizarding world. You are accused of breaking the oath of loyalty, taken by Albus Dumbledore. Do you claim yourself?'

'Not guilty.' Came a weak but dry response.

A/N 'Lost my(wife and) children but I've many friends' is a quote from Leonard Cohen's song 'Partisan'

'Sharpen our weapon on their tombs' is connected with a popular polish war-song, and in the original version it's 'On fathers' tomb bayonet's sharpen steel' If you have seen Polanski's 'The Pianist' it was sung by Jews when the drunken SS-mann ordered them to sing something happy.

And now go and click the button 'submit review'. I know you want to… And I am very sorry, that for the first time it shown itself not-divided into paragraphs. It's fault of my stupidity when it comes to technic…


	6. Just a dot in statistics

A/N I don't know if you will like this chapter. It was really difficult to write. I couldn't find the right point of view for a long time. It was written under influence of many things, like lack of sleep, very bad mood, a very sad, but good film I watched on the TV about a woman whose world fell apart in a few moments, a horrible quarrel I had with my sister… And of course it's like always written between 11PM and 1AM… mostly.  

Disclaimer: It's all J. K Rowlings. If you want to send me some money for this I mustn't agree ;) If you don't recognise a character, it's my own. 

I was watching when Arthur entered the courtroom. He is even thinner since his only daughter died in the final battle. Ironically he may be called lucky – he lost only free of his children, twins, Charles and Percy are still alive.

What have we become if we say 'only three children'?

The Order of the Phoenix lost many of it's members. But people in the Order were adults. Prepared for everything. Determined to put their lives at risk to give those, who needed protection a chance. Death Eater's attacks killed many children, wizarding and Muggle. 

My all family is dead. My children died in the attack on Hogsmead, not the one year ago, in the most recent one. My husband died in the final battle. I have no sisters or brothers, and my parents died in the first war.

Who didn't experience being so alone can't understand it.

And as I had a family, I was happy, and then all of it was cruelly taken away, the pain is irresistible. 

Sometimes I wonder if I should kill myself. Join them, wherever they are, if they are. But then I take the box with photos of them inside, and I watch them, one by one.

On those photos they are smiling and waving at me. Sometimes my husband gives me – the one on the photo, of course – a hug, or kisses me. Then I take my potion or don't go to sleep anyway. 

They are caught in there forever. And I may watch them, and smile between tears. I feed myself on glimpses of what once was mine. I even envy myself from these times, not only for having, but also for not knowing. For blissful carelessness.

There is a reason I don't cut my wrists, or hang myself. Or drink a lot of my own sleep-potion. It's because I don't know if there is something _after_. And I must masochistically watch them and remember. Remember, remember, remember. I find some sense in old Egyptian idea of people living as long as they are remembered. So I remember with all my strength. The way they moved. Their first smiles. Beating of their hearts. What they liked to eat, and what they didn't. The clothes they wore. How they looked in their sleep. How they were growing and how they were happy when they received their letters from Hogwarts. The excitement I felt, when I was waiting for their letters, about which House they were in, that described the teachers, classmates, their first loves… The way they were saying 'Alright' and 'Yeah, mum, stop fussing' and…

And there is another thing that keeps me going.

I come here every day. I watch every trial. I see Death Eaters, people who killed my family, when they no longer have their masks on. And not only these ghastly white ones, that hid their faces. Ones that hid their souls, too.

I see them when there is no more self-confidence in their eyes. They don't look so superior, not any more. Now it's their turn to be in pain, to suffer, to be afraid. I see them no longer sneering and smirking. I see them shouting, crying, cursing without effect. I see all the hope fade of their faces, I see their eyes lose al the light.

When I see, when I feel the hatred the crowd here shows towards them, when I feel their emotions, and when these monsters finally are broken, children crying in my head are a bit less loud.

Maybe you think I am mad? No, I am not. Madness would be a blessing. I am totally aware of the world. 

I have put a veil on the mirrors in my flat. No longer home. Just a place to sleep.

The door open and I wait impatiently as they bring the prisoner inside. I notice, that I have dig my nails deep in the skin of my palm. A small drop of blood shows, and I lick it. It's sweet. I grew accustomed to blood's taste lately, when I discovered how effective physical pain is, when you want to wipe the real suffering away.

But there is one thing, that is even more effective. And that's why I am here.

First time I came here it was just after one of many funerals, and one of my friends asked if I could go with her. It was one of Death Eaters who killed her husband's trial, and she didn't want to be alone. So I came.

I felt such a rush of adrenaline, blissful feeling in my veins. And the feeling when he was convicted to death sentence… The shriek he gave… Oh, he wasn't one of fanatics. He was His follower just for money, and probably even more, fun.

The vengeance is sweet indeed. Just like blood.

And like blood, feels bitter later. 

I drank my own doom.

Every time I come here I say, that it's the last time. I believe for a moment that children's cries in my head will be silent forever. But later I wake in the middle of the night, and I yell, yell my lungs out, because they are not here, and I am, because I survived and they didn't. So in the morning I dress in my black clothes and come to Azkaban – I still have useful connections – to feed my crave for others pain, to once more make sure they will suffer for what they did. Murderers of my children.

I would dance on their graves with a pleasure. I feel pleasure when they scream, when they cry, when they are in pain. I feel as good, as they feel bad. When they lose hope, I see light.

I look at the prisoner. He is dark-haired, pale, thin. I don't focus on his features, instead try to read from his movements what he feels. You can make your voice and face emotionless, but the way you move always betrays you. But there are few who can read it properly.

He is apathetic. 

Doesn't matter. They always break anyway.

I close my eyes completely and listen to the voices. There is a murmur of people that keep watching him, and the clear voice of Arthur, sharp voice of the prosecutor, changing voices of the witnesses. It's mixed in my head together, like a music. No words, I only literally suck emotions. Like a dementor.

It's addictive. I no longer have a power to express my own emotions, except for these hours of the morning. I drug myself with a slowly killing substance – hatred and pain.

Together with vengeance I drank my own doom.

I don't really care. I take a deep breathe and with it I full my lungs with the scent left in this place by many faceless prisoners. The scent of fear. 

Arthur stands up to say the verdict. The air is full of tension. I guess the only person that doesn't care is the prisoner and it disappoints me. 

But there are still three other trials today. I will not be hungry, I am sure. 

And maybe, just maybe today my children won't cry in my dreams.

There is no chance. But there is irrational hope.

Because if they won't what I will do the day there will be no more trials? When I will lose even this temporal relief? When they will never stop, even for a minute?

I don't wait for the verdict. I exit, and people turn to look at me.

Damn the world. Damn him. Damn me.

God. Wherever, whoever You are… Just make my children stop crying.

A/N2: I guess I didn't get the effect I wanted. I wanted to show a victim, who loses her soul because of her pain and suffering, because chose the wrong way of dealing with thinks. And it happened accidentally… She wasn't going to start her addiction. She is a victim, though she is disgusting in her sadism.

Everyone of us can become a monster, if we don't watch out. There is devil and angel in our soul.  This woman is just a dot in the statistic.

And I am sure 'dancing on graves' was used in many places, but I got this particular idea from polish writer's Andrzej Sapkowski, who named his character 'White Flame Dancing on Mounds of his Enemies' (well, it was a title of the character, if I remember correctly, the name was Emhyr ).

'Wherever they are, if they are' is a bit changed quote from most important Polish Renaissance writer, Jan Kochanowski, from his 'Threnodies', addressed to his dead 18 months old daughter. 

And now please leave a review. The reviews are what keeps me writing (well, there is also the small fact that I like writing, but…). Please, when I get to know what you liked and what you didn't, I can write better. And it makes my day…(That's as close to begging as Yllens can get and not be killed by a lightning).

And thanks to all that reviewed so far. If you leave me your e-mail, I will send you e-mail when I update. And there are probably only two more chapters, and maybe a long author's note till the end… It would close the number of real chapters as 7, the number of perfection;)

Next chapter will not be soon. I am leaving for at least two weeks.


	7. Right or wrong, or whatever

A/N: I am very happy I managed to post it before I leave. And it was difficult for me to find time. I am in a horrible hurry now, holidays, and this kind of stuff. So maybe you shall leave me a review…

Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't earn. Only torture.

So, let's think of a possibility, just a possibility, that I was wrong.

_I am dragged through the door into horribly lit courtroom._

Maybe I was wrong.

_A crowd of people stare at me. _

I mean, look at Albus. Always so trustful, believing people change, giving second chances.

_Some of these faces I know._

Naïve, in other words. Betrayed many times he could have been.

_I am placed on an uncomfortable chair._

And now look at me. Quite the opposite.

_At least it doesn't tie me._

 My confidence never was betrayed, Mainly, because it didn't exist.

_Who would have thought Arthur will get this high._

Since I was wrong for the first time, I decide that it will never happen again.

_It's boring. Why don't they start so we could have this over?_

So I never again trusted. I took into consideration, that everyone is my enemy, including myself, and I was right, for the most of the time. I was right.

_At last Arthur stands up and begins his speech. Accused, betrayed, oath…_

Albus allowed people to abuse his confidence. It always amazed me, that he never learned on his mistakes. One could expect, that after having Voldemort as teacher at school he will be less carefree. But no. Well, maybe 'carefree' is not the proper word. 

The prosecutor begins his speech. 

He gave a lot, not expecting to be given back. He offered everybody who wanted his friendship and respect. He treated everyone as equals.

_I cannot separate his words. I hear it all as a kind of aggressive wave that falls on me. But it doesn't matter. Not any more._

I always looked if I have my own business in the matter, before I moved my little finger. I belittled everyone and showed my despise just in case. 

_I think I remember this young man who accuses me. He was one of my pupils. That would explain emotions he shows._

And even though it seemed that I am showing more common sense, now I am wondering, if I was not the one to loose more.

_He is walking impatiently and gesturing a lot. Probably tries to picture all my awful deeds. _

I never lost, because I never joined the game called 'Interpersonal Relations'. But I also never won.

At last he stopped it. It was getting on my nerves. I probably shall be grateful, he didn't bring an actor with him, to play Voldemort. 

I was as lonely, as one can be. Good thing it is. Safe thing it is. Bloody painful it is.

_Now my lawyer is speaking. I don't even know him. He is not half as convincing as persecutor was, but at least I don't have to be ashamed for his childish behaviour._

At the beginning one is even glad. Nobody disturbs. Peace. 

_He steps back and someone else comes._

Then one lies in his bed and feels a terrible solitude. No breath, except for your own. Horrible silence. Silence that throws you into depression or even insanity.

_Damn it. What is Potter, The Saviour of the World, doing here? Am I never to be left alone?_

That's when your hearing sharpens. And so you can hear the clock's ticking, dripping of water in the bathroom, murmurs of unknown origin. You begin to count it, in spite of yourself. And these voices grow louder and seem to surround you, and you feel like shouting or throwing something against the wall to silence half-imagined noise. 

_Oh, spare me this humiliation. He is deposing for me!_

Everybody needs company. 

_I don't want to listen to his words. It would make me feel guilty, that I was never just to him. And guilt is the last thing I need now. I mean, more guilt.  
_You see, even Voldemort needed other people and was very aware of the fact that he did. He needed enemies to fight with. He needed slaves to command them. He needed fools to spurn them and to be worshiped by them. He needed followers to use them.

_He finished, at last. Have it not been about me, I would even believe him._

But he _chose_ an inner circle of _confidents_. Because even he, with all his egocentrism knew the truth that we build visions of ourselves on what others think of us. We may want to think differently, we may tell we don't care what others think of us, but that's a lie. We may not care what people in general think, but we can't live against everybody.

_Is this day never going to finish? What now?_

I pretended to be an exception. But I am not one. There are no exceptions.

_Oh, I must be already damned. What is this werewolf doing here?_

I am of bones and blood and as such I have needs. One feels hunger, thirst, desire. All these needs are powerful and may rule us, allow we them so. 

_It is the most humiliating day of my life. What did I do to deserve their pity?_

But there are other needs – needs of the… mind? Soul? A great need for someone who cares. 

_Great. And you are speaking about me? Are you sure, Lupin?_

And my own behaviour was purposefully auto-destructive. I had developed something similar to self-harming in the emotional way. I denied myself feeling.

_Oh, finish this speech of yours. It embarrasses me, because I begin to think you met my lost twin. Not that I have one._

Do you know it's proved that beating is better for children than not being noticed?

_At last. Now Arthur is supposed to make his decision._

Anyway, I cannot blame anyone for my present situation. For they are only to confirm the sentence I have already fulfilled. 

_Why cannot he make it faster?_

Have there been dementors, would there be enough of my soul to feed the smallest one of them?

_What? Am I mistaken?_

When I look at myself rationally I know I am not all evil. I didn't want Voldemort to rule the world. I wanted to protect those, that are weaker. But I was afraid of being belittled and laughed at. And to prevent it I created a vision of myself, that no one could laugh at. I created a mask. But a mask isn't only hiding our face – it gives a new one. And my mask was a mask of hateful being, that existed only to hurt others and make their lives miserable. 

_But to clear me of all charges is  kind of… eccentric._

Others' eyes are mirrors in which we see our soul. And so I allowed myself to gradually become the image I prepared for others.

_I don't know what I am supposed to do. _

There were seldom people who saw me in different light. One was Voldemort. He believed me to be one of his fanatics. Amusing. As if I could be a fanatic of any case. I am too pragmatic and cynical to believe anything completely.

_I stand up and look at Arthur, who nods at me. So I am to stay here, I suppose._

Other was Albus. He always looked at me as if he cared. Maybe he really did. He did. I know he did. 

_At last most of the people leave, except for Werewolf, Saviour of the World and Minister. Great company for me._

The only human being that cared if I was alive, is gone. I won't have a chance to tell him I am sorry I never returned his concern, and that it was very important to me. Helped me stay alive. I won't have a chance to tell him, that I also thought of him as about a friend, mentor, maybe even father.

_Arthur comes closer and asks me if there is something he can do for me. He even apologises for all the troubles I had. _

So, returning to the first question, is it better to lose and win, or not to try at all? 

_So I ask him, if he can show me the graves. Albus' grave._

I shall not answer this question, as it has already been answered. So stupid I was. 

_He looks at me in disbelief. So does Werewolf and Saviour of the World._

_'But… Severus…'_

_'What?' I snap impatiently._

_'Albus is not dead. He is in St Mungo's. He was unconscious till yesterday. He asked me to bring you as soon as you are cleared.'_

A/N: Hahaha. I always wanted to leave you with a real cliff-hanger (evil me). And now I do. And just to clean the situation, I didn't change my mind about Albus. I had known he was alive in the beginning. It was only Severus who was talking about his death, and he only deduced it. Remus mentioned once that even Albus wasn't saint, but he meant situation before the war, not that he is dead. And please leave me a review, I neglected my other very important duties, to write it before I leave again, for the next week Next chapter is the final one. 

Thanks for everyone who spent his/her time to read it. It was your encouragement that kept me writing. And it was my master Terry Pratchett who said Severus' words about masks, that are another face. And it's at least a bit taken from him, the part about creating reality, becoming what others see us. He is a wise man. 


	8. Epilogue

A/N It's a kind of epilogue. Different than other chapters. Short. I love you all, people who read my story. I will send everyone who left me e-mail special thanks, and I promise to answer all those who didn't in one more Author's note. 

Disclaimer: I don't own. I don't earn. I only play with other's people's ideas with a bit of my owns – because the plot is mine.

20 years later

Sometimes I wonder why it's me to live for so long. Not that I wish it was different – it's a pleasure to see as once children under my care, turn adults, live their lives. I love them all, whether good or evil. Tom Riddle never could understand it.

Now my mind comes back to these difficult times, when he, as Voldemort, together with Death Eaters tried to gain control over wizarding community. I don't think many people wonder how great impact he had on us all. 

We all changed. War has it's own way of moving one's personality, showing hidden weaknesses and unknown strengths. 

Have there not been Voldemort, would ever Remus find out that he is so trustworthy and able to help people that need comfort? Would ever Harry gain self-confidence? Would ever Hermione take her nose out of the book?

Have there not been Voldemort, Death Eaters would only remain proud, egotistic and probably not nice to animals people. Ones you don't like and maybe don't trust with your cat, but not a danger.

Our all society moved. We were in a state of stagnation, that only can be followed by corruption. We had to change our way of living, get to know there are more important things than titles, points, exams. 

And most importantly only together we could stand against the evil. So we had to join our forces and forget who is a Gryffindor and Slytherin. We had to think about house elves, goblins, centaurs, even Muggles as important allies – not as means.

The change in our way of thinking about all these groups isn't yet completed, isn't yet sufficient. But it at last exists. 

We sacrificed our children on the altar of cruel Goddess, War, and she took our gift, and burned us. But with great effort instead of being damaged, no more useful, we desperately worked not to let their sacrifice waste. 

The fruit of deaths is our newborn law, political system, tolerance we learned the hard way. I don't say it was worth it all or some other nonsense. I only say we learned our lesson. And I do believe we won't repeat this mistake. 

I look in the mirror again, to see face that is tired and worn. Maybe my own time will come soon.

But now I am waiting for arrival of Mr and Mrs Snape.

I hear someone knocking and I say 'Come in'

They come in.

We exchange our 'hellos' and 'nictomeetyous' and all these things. She seems a bit tired, but still there is a kind of… light around her. She smiles and looks at Severus, as if reminding him about something. He nods and turns to face me.

'Albus…'

'Yes Severus?'

'You know that the Mediwitch, what's her name…'

'Blenkensop.' No wonder he cannot remember her name – since Poppy died there were not a Mediwitch that would stay for more than three months. The situation even worst than it had been with Defence once.

'Yes, Blenkensop, she said the day will be soon…'

'Yes. I remember.'

'And so we wanted to ask you to be his godfather.'

That's definitely a good news. I remember about my duties and offer them sherbet lemon, or at least coffee, tea, whatever.

'We want to name him Albus Armand'

I drop the teapot I had in my hand. I feel a bit guilty about it, but I really hoped they would do something like that. Am I vain?

'I… don't know what to say…'

She smiles and looks at me mischievously.

'You can say your normal first day speech. The part about sitting down and eating.'

I am happy, when I see people I love happy.

'I have a present for you two.' I say.

They are both surprised. But I am sure they will like it. When I found it in one of forgotten rooms of Hogwarts, I immediately thought of them. I asked Hermione to check if the text is safe and translate it. It took har quiet a long time, but here it is.

And so I give them my present, my best wishes, and a bit of sweets. Severus even tries a biscuit, just to please me.

They open the package and I see as their eyes brighten.

Sometimes it's nice to be very wise, just as I am.

But it's even nicer to have many things to learn beforehand. 

A/N: I have not said who is Severus' wife, because so you may put there who you want (like yourself ;)

There will not be a sequel. I was thinking of it, and that it just wouldn't be fair to poor Severus. He had enough. But I will write next story – I don't know the title yet, but it'll be about the 'Present' they got. It's going to happen in Founder's times. I would very much appreciate if you could send me where I may find information about them, and the songs of the Hat as I only own Harry Potter in Polish, and I need exact English text. 

And please, everyone who read it till here, give _me_ a present… Review! That's why I continue writing! Please, please… 

Blenkensop was (if I remember correctly) surname Tuppence chose for herself in 'N or M?' by Agatha Christie.

Armand is because of Armand Jean due Plessis de Richelieu.


End file.
